My secret mountain lab hummed with quiet, controlled power.
Not electricity from any grid.Not a generator.Not stolen wires.
I generated it all myself—pure lightning magic, channeled into crystalline converters and then fed into the machinery Orochimaru's memories helped me design. It kept the entire place off the books, off the grid, and off every possible scrying net. Not even Nabu would find this place unless he physically walked into the mountain.
The air smelled faintly of ozone and sterilized metal. Exactly the atmosphere a morally questionable magical clone‑breeding facility should have.
Rows of containment tubes gleamed in the dim blue light.Spell‑reinforced glass.Anti‑tamper seals.Runic stabilization arrays.Mana‑infused nutrient fluid that would keep even cosmic cells from decaying.
On the central table lay my current problem… or masterpiece… depending on the angle:
The Perfect Vessel Project.
A large scroll unfurled across the metal surface, covered in diagrams, formulas, magical constructs, and genetic sequences. Half chakra system, half mystic anatomy. All insane.
But then again, I've never claimed sanity—just competence.
"I can't exactly recruit magical geniuses," I muttered as I adjusted the runes on a containment pod. "Not when the strongest ones in this universe tend to go insane, explode, or make deals with demons."
Hence the project.
Step One: Create clones of magic titans.
Not complete beings.Not full souls.Just bodies—empty vessels patterned after the greatest magical users in this world and others.
DNA samples rested in vials along the table, each glowing with their own distinct magical color:
Agamotto — a strand of cosmic gold
The Enchantress — faintly green, chaotic but potent
Mephisto — red and oily like hatred distilled
Agatha Harkness — deep violet, ancient and crackling
Morgan le Fay — emerald, sharp as a dagger
Dormammu — dark purple, radiating dimensional fire
Shuma‑Gorath — a sickly, shimmering green that hurt to look at
Doctor Doom — a cold iron blue, terrifyingly disciplined
Doctor Strange — bright azure, refined and brilliant
And then there was my own vial—silver‑gold, humming with six‑eyes sight and three lifetimes of mastery.
"I could use my own DNA to make helpers," I mused, turning the vial over in my hand, "but I am not emotionally stable enough to raise a child version of myself. One of me is enough. Barely."
So instead, I had decided on something smarter.
Something far more reckless.
Step Two: Build a perfect clone body using the best parts of each sample.
Why rely on fate for my next evolution when I can simply fabricate it?
Agamotto's raw potential.Strange's refined control.Morgan le Fay's brutal spellcasting instincts.Doom's iron discipline and resilience.Mephisto's regeneration.Dormammu's dimensional power.Agatha's centuries of witchcraft talent embedded in her very cells.Shuma‑Gorath's eldritch adaptability.
Combine them.Refine them.Shape them.
A body built just for me.
A vessel that could wield magic at a level that would make even a Lord of Chaos reconsider its life choices.
My fingers flew through hand‑seals, pouring chakra into the center of the lab. A glowing sphere formed, swirling with DNA strands and magical patterns as the automated systems kicked in.
Orochimaru would weep tears of joy if he could see this.
"I'm not doing this for glory," I told the empty room, though let's be honest—I definitely wanted bragging rights. "I'm doing this because at some point I'm going to have to fight Darkseid, Trigon, or some other cosmic jackass. And I refuse to be underpowered."
I walked along the row of cloning chambers.
One pod was already filled with swirling blue light—the early stages of a dormant Agamotto‑clone.Another held a stabilizing mixture for a Doom‑pattern musculature.A third had the faint ripple of Morgan le Fay's magical signature beginning to merge with dimensional latticework.
These weren't people.Not yet.Not ever, if I did this right.
No consciousness.No soul.Just bodies—pure magical potential.
Empty containers waiting for me to step inside them.
Step Three: Living Corpse Reincarnation.
A forbidden jutsu that would've horrified every sorcerer alive.
The technique would let me transfer my mind, spirit, and soul into a new vessel. Clean. Instant. No fight back, no rejection, no backlash.
My old body would simply vanish.
My new one?Peak magical efficiency.
Equal parts divine sorcery, eldritch resilience, and scientific perfection.
A weapon.A masterpiece.A nightmare for any cosmic enemy.
I placed the final vial—Agamotto's hair—into the genetic matrix.
The entire lab vibrated as magic surged through it.Crystals lit up.Seals flared.The mountain shook slightly.
Good.
That meant it was working.
"This body will take years to grow," I said, watching the swirling lights stabilize. "But when it's done… I'll finally have the power I need."
I tapped the glass gently.
"And when Darkseid arrives, I'm going to punch him so hard he forgets the Anti‑Life Equation."
Lightning arced across the room as the systems locked into place.
The Perfect Vessel had begun its first stage.
And I?I stepped back, crossed my arms, and smiled.
"I'm going to become terrifying."
And the best part?
No one—not Nabu, not Klarion, not even the multiverse—would ever see it coming.